Page 60 of Santa Has a Six-Pack
This is so sad. A few days ago, there were definite vibes between us. Conversation was so natural and fun, and free. Turns out that what I told myself was irritating about him was actually exhilarating.
Then I had to go and ruin it.
“Listen—” we both say at the same time. We stop at a crosswalk and turn to face each other.
“You go first.” I chuckle.
“No, you,” he says. “Please.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath and let it out. “I like being around you, Matt. I do.”
“Cool,” he says on a relieved sigh. “Me too!”
“And I’m truly sorry I misinterpreted what was happening between us?—”
“You didn’t misinterpret, though!” he says. “Penny, seriously, I am?—”
I hold up a hand. “Can I just get this out?” I soften my voice. “Sorry. I’m not always great at explaining myself, so I’d like to– ”
“Hey!” A guy in a suit yells from directly behind us. “Can ya move?”
“Can you speak nicely to a lady, buddy?! Huh? Is that possible?!” Matt yells back, completely juiced.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I soothe. “Excuse us.”
Matt gives the suit guy the look of death as he guides me gently to the side. We watch him cross the street and continue on his not-so-merry way.
I lean against the building’s brick wall and smile as I watch Matt’s chest rise and fall. “Lost your cool there, huh?”
“Little bit.” He shrugs and smiles back. “Didn’t like the way he spoke to you.”
I stare at him for a beat, marveling over the first impression I had of him and how wrong I turned out to be.
He nods. “You, uh, you were saying?”
“I don’t want things to be awkward between us,” I say simply.
“Me neither.”
“And I don’t want to keep up this whole ‘Penny is a bitch to Matt’ thing either.’”
“Were you ever a bitch to me?” He laughs. “I don’t think you were ever a bitch to me.”
“You know what I mean. I’ve been… crabby to you in the past.”
“Alright,” he jokes. “I can see that. To be fair, though, I can be a lot. A little crabbiness in my presence is understandable.”
I shake my head. “No. I think it was because… I struggle with some stuff that—” I stop myself when I see him hanging on my every word. “You know what? It’s not that interesting. The point I’m trying to get across is that my attitude was a ‘me’ issue. Not a ‘you’ issue.”
“Ah, the classic ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’” he says.
“I don’t mean it like that.” I laugh.
“I get it.” His expression turns thoughtful as he watches a group of kids, laughing as they stroll by. “It sounds like what you’re trying to say is you want to be friends.”
“Cheesy as it sounds… yes?” I wince. “If you’re into that sort of thing?”
“Am I into having friends?” He grimaces. “Not really.”
